I Could Get Used to This
by shotofvanilla
Summary: The morning after for our 2 boys the final scene in "The First Time." Klaine. K  for implied things. Spoilers if you haven't seen "The First Time." One- shot


The sliver of light shining through the window of his room woke Blaine up early the next morning. He rolled over in bed, opening his eyes groggily in the bright sunlight.

To find empty space next to him.

He internally freaks out for a moment, mentally becoming more aware. He quickly took stock of the events of last night, after the play. He and Kurt had popped into Breadsticks for a moment, just to say congratulations to the cast and crew before making a hasty exit, which had earned them a wink and a, "Get it, Hummel!" from Santana. Then came the quick drive back to his house, where Blaine was pretty sure would have broken over twenty traffic laws if it hadn't been for Kurt playing with one of his hands during the entire ride. Then they got home, went upstairs, talked, and _oh_.

Blaine feels a smile spread across his face as he remembered the previous night. A low blush rose to his face as he flopped back down on the bed for a moment, breathing a breathless sigh and running his hands through his hair, which had broken free from the gel thanks to Kurt's pulling on it throughout the night. The more intimate parts of the night started to filter into his mind, and the blush on his cheeks darkened considerably as he remembered the touches and the breathless moans and _friction_-

But the most he can remember are the _feelings_. Because- after an internal evaluation- he feels fine. Perfect, even. There's no trace of regret or shame in his system; only the feeling of being loved and cherished and just…_ whole_. The grin on his face widens, and another sigh escapes his lips.

He props himself up on his arm again, glancing around the room for Kurt. He obviously didn't leave this morning, and a quick glance to the bathroom tells him that he's not there. He rolls over in bed, preparing to get up, when his eyes fall across a small slip of paper of his nightstand, marked with Kurt's flawless cursive.

_Morning, sweetie. I didn't want to wake you up. I'm downstairs making breakfast. X._

He looks adoringly at the note, his heart soaring and butterflies entering his stomach. He quickly gets up and rifles around in his closet, putting on a clean white t-shirt and some underwear. He brushes his teeth and runs his hand through his hair again, loosening the rest of the gel with a bit of water.

When he reaches the bottom of the steps, two of his senses are practically overloaded: smell and sight. Smell because of the growing stack of pancakes that are next to Kurt by the stove, and sight because Kurt's wearing of _his_ white button down shirts with his underwear, and his hair's perfectly mussed and all Blaine can think now is _I could get used to this_. And the idea of waking up with Kurt and making breakfast with him and living together suddenly seems so much more realistic now that he can actually picture it perfectly.

He also can't help the slight swell of pride when he notices the somewhat stiff way Kurt's holding himself.

He makes his way over to Kurt, careful to make a small amount of noise before wrapping his arms around Kurt's middle and pressing his chin to the crook of Kurt's neck.

"Mornin'," he whispers softly. Kurt makes a small noise in the back of his throat, smiling as he slides the finished batch of pancakes to the stack next to him. He grabs the bowl of batter and pours the last few pancakes.

"Morning," he says in reply. "Sleep well?"

"Perfectly," Blaine says softly. "What time did you get up?"

He feels Kurt shrug in his embrace. "Only about thirty, forty minutes before you," he answers, twirling the spatula in his hand. Blaine hums in response, pressing light kisses up the column of Kurt's throat before lightly nibbling on his ear. The spatula clatters to the counter as Kurt reaches up to lightly fist his hand in Blaine's curls, tipping his head back for a moment. He twists in Blaine arms, cupping his face as he brings their lips together in a full kiss. Blaine moans a little in the back of his throat because he can taste chocolate on Kurt's lips from some of the chocolate chips he must have nibbled on as he made the pancakes. Kurt's tongue lightly traces his lips, and Blaine pulls him closer, attempting to establish as much physical contact between the two of them as possible, before Kurt pushes him away, giggling breathlessly.

"Later," he whispers, turning around and picking up the spatula. Blaine makes a sound of discontentment, stepping forward to kiss up Kurt's throat again. Kurt sighs happily, but shoves Blaine away again. "You know there's no bigger turn-off that catching the house on fire because I burned the pancakes," he says, throwing Blaine a look over his shoulder.

Blaine sighs, but obeys, contentedly watching his boyfriend sprinkle a few chocolate chips in each pancake, his heart warming again. "You know," he murmurs, "I could get used to this."

Kurt looks at him for a moment, smiling. "You mean, me making you breakfast? Because honey, that's not happening every day," he says teasingly.

Blaine chuckles. "No!" he says, shaking his head. "Well, kind of, I guess," he shrugs, staring off into space.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asks, flipping a couple of the pancakes.

"I just mean," Blaine trails off, thinking for a moment. "This, I guess," he says, gesturing between the two of them. "Waking up together, spending the morning together, that sort of thing," he mumbles, looking down embarrassedly.

Kurt cups his cheek and forces him to meet his eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Hey, I think about it too."

"You do?" Blaine asks hopefully.

Kurt nods, turning back to his pancakes and sliding the last one of the pan. "All the time, actually. Although," his tone turns speculative, "I hope you don't get used to this particular situation. I'm still sore from last night," he explains.

Blaine smiles smugly for a moment, then he leaned back on the opposite counter. "You know we could always switch places next time," he suggests nonchalantly.

Kurt freezes in his actions before continuing, slowly. He wipes his hands on a dish towel and turns off the burner, moving the pan to the sink next to the stove. By this point, the pause has stretched for what feels like a moment to long and Blaine starts to panic. "Kurt-, "he starts hurriedly.

"Is that an invitation?" Kurt asks, cutting him off.

Blaine's eyes widen in surprise. "Wh- what?" he stammers out.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I said: Is that an invitation?"

Blaine quirked his eyebrows, but only smiled suggestively, reaching towards Kurt to take the stack of pancakes. "If you want it to be," he whispered in Kurt's ear. He hears Kurt's sharp intake of breath and a hand stops him right before he grabs the plate. He meets Kurt's eyes, where the pupils are slightly dilated in lust.

"Forget about the pancakes," Kurt mutters, and Blaine arches an eyebrow _because Kurt always insists on eating his cooking while it still hot_. "We can reheat them later. Or something. Right now, I can think of more important things to do."

And Blaine only has time to smile in response before Kurt crashes their lips together, and he moans when Kurt's tongue tangles with his, winding his arms around his waist to pull him closer.

_Yeah,_ he thinks,_ I could get used to this_.


End file.
